The Forward Command Post of the Hidden Leaf during the war against Sunagakure...
At that mont, Jonin Hirata Eiichirō was venting his frustrations before the supre commander of the battlefield—Hatake Sakumo.
But Sakumo simply watched him with a calm, composed gaze, his expression kind and patient, as if silently allowing him to get it all off his chest.
Eventually, Eiichirō couldn't hold back anymore and went straight to the point.
"Commander Sakumo, I'm begging you. Please reassign to a frontline combat unit!"
"In all honesty, I don't think I'm suited for this whole logistics escort mission. I—I'm just not cut out for it. With my limited skills, it's far too much responsibility to handle."
To his surprise, Hatake Sakumo didn't scold him. Nor did he look disappointed. Instead, the legendary White Fang rely gave him a small, understanding nod.
"I understand, Jonin Eiichirō. That mission must've been exhausting. Araki—take him to rest. Let him recover for two days. I'll assign soone else to replace him."
Eiichirō stood there, stunned. He had co fully prepared to argue his case, ready to offer pages of justification.
But in the end, the commander had simply... let him go.
Still a little dazed, Eiichirō was escorted out of the command tent by one of the personnel.
— — —
Not long after Eiichirō's departure, Hatake Kyūjō stepped inside, following the sa ninja nad Araki who had just left.
However, the mont Kyūjō laid eyes on his older brother—his expression instantly shifted.
Sakumo looked utterly worn out. His chakra was unstable, his uniform dirtied by blood and sweat, and even more alarming—a shallow wound could be seen beneath his armor, right at his abdon.
"Big Brother…" Kyūjō's voice hardened. "You're the Supre Commander. That ans you need to take care of yourself. When was the last ti you even slept? You're out there fighting Jonin from Suna, managing logistics, handling strategy—what, are you made of iron or sothing?!"
Sakumo smiled at the concern in his younger brother's tone. A faint warmth spread in his chest.
He didn't reply imdiately. Instead, he placed a hand on Kyūjō's shoulder and said softly, "Eiichirō already reported everything that happened along the way. I know... it was you who eliminated those Sunagakure ninja, wasn't it?"
"You've done more than enough, little brother."
"And to be honest... none of that should've been your responsibility to begin with. You're still a Genin. If one day you find yourself in danger—promise this: don't ever push yourself too far. No matter the mission, your life cos first. Always."
But Kyūjō only shook his head slightly, his tone calm.
"Big Brother... it wasn't that bad. Those ninja from Suna couldn't really do much to ."
Sakumo didn't deny his younger brother's boldness. Honestly, given Kyūjō's absurd level of talent, maybe it wasn't arrogance—maybe it was just the truth.
Still, he shifted the conversation, his voice growing serious as he briefed Kyūjō on the more... complicated enemies out there.
Not just strong enemies.
But dangerous ones.
Among the most troubleso were the Puppet Masters—a unique profession of ninja that only Sunagakure possessed.
Unlike traditional shinobi, Puppet Masters didn't fight directly. Instead, they deployed intricate, chakra-infused puppets from a safe distance, fighting from the shadows while their creations did the work.
The terrifying thing about them?
Even if their puppet was destroyed, the Puppet Master themselves would remain unhard.
Most of the ti, the only loss was material—wood, wires, chakra-infused components. Nothing irreplaceable.
So why was this technique exclusive to Suna?
Because Puppet Technique was a secret art—one developed by the Second Kazekage, Shamon—and even within Sunagakure, only a handful of elite ninja could truly master it.
Among them, one stood above the rest.
Chiyo, one of Sunagakure's two elder counselors.
She wasn't just a master puppeteer—she was a living legend.
Her greatest arsenal?
The Ten Puppets of Chikamatsu—the final masterpiece of Monzaemon, the original puppet master of Sunagakure.
Ten puppets. Ten fingers. Each controlled simultaneously with a level of finesse and precision that was nothing short of inhuman.
In her pri, it was said that she could level an entire city on her own using just those ten puppets.
But Chiyo's power didn't stop at re puppetry. She was a well-rounded kunoichi, proficient in Taijutsu, Sealing Techniques, and even dical Ninjutsu.
A one-woman army.
When Sakumo described her abilities as "imasurable," Kyūjō understood what he really ant.
She was Kage-level.
Even if the term wasn't officially acknowledged out of respect for the Five Kage system—there was no denying it. Whether it was Chiyo of the Sand, or Sakumo the White Fang, both operated at that scale.
And in this war, it was Sakumo—wielding his blade like a divine force—who had begun to slowly overtake the aged puppeteer.
But even with his youth and sheer talent, Sakumo had limitations. The disparity in manpower between Konoha and Sunagakure was severe.
Their skirmishes often lasted hundreds of moves—neither side able to fully dominate the other. Even when Sakumo "won," the gap was never wide enough to end things decisively.
In contrast, Chiyo's power was far more destructive.
She was like a living siege weapon—perfect for large-scale combat.
Sakumo, on the other hand, was an assassin-type fighter. A sword that cuts the enemy's throat before they see it coming.
So every ti their battles concluded, Sakumo would imdiately leap into ambush missions, disrupting Suna's supply lines or eliminating smaller units—trying to level the playing field.
Chiyo's one weakness?
Her age.
Her recovery rate—chakra, stamina, reflexes—had all dulled with ti.
That was the only reason the war hadn't already tilted in Suna's favor.
For now... the frontlines held steady.
But Sakumo knew better than anyone—
This deadlock wouldn't last forever.
And eventually, sothing would have to give.
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